The Leonhart Chronicles : Children of Fate
by Glacier's Edge
Summary: An in depth novelization of FINAL FANTASY VIII...


_**- Prologue -**_

_**Branding**_

The field was empty. He had promised to meet her here, but he was gone. And somehow, in some deep, instinctive corner of her heart, she knew that he wouldn't be coming.

He'd promised her. They'd meet here, together, but somehow...

_Where was he? Had he failed? Was he lost? She didn't know, and the lack of knowledge tore at her and left her weak with fear and worry._

She looked across the field, lost and alone. A cold, silent wind whipped across the meadow, tossing up flower petals. One floated in front of her, and she absently closed her hand over it. For just a minute longer, she held the delicate flower in her hand. Maybe it was to capture the moment forever - etching it into her soul…or maybe it was because she was scared the moment would end too soon. The aroma danced in her senses, as the petals softly tickled her nose. In her life so much never seemed perfect, yet somehow this flower petal did. It represented all that was right in this world, and all the beauty contained within.

_No, he would never come..._

She released the petal, and her mouth opened in wonder, for it had changed, to a white feather, which the wind caught and blew into the sky. Her eyes followed it, her head turning, a hand coming up to brush her black hair out of her eyes so she could follow its movements into the darkening clouds...

* * *

Peace; a simple luxury often taken for granted by the human race. If such a thing were easily withheld in the world, there would be no need for armies or war. There would be no need for death and bloodshed, but alas, this is not the case. Peace is fought for, and usually carries a hefty price. Those who fight for it are not often hailed as heroes unless they are killed while doing so, and even then it takes convincing. People do not like to admit it is their selfishness which brings about war. People are stupid.

Often is the goal of war overlooked. Many see it as a way of proving dominance instead of a last resort. War is blind; no hatred or love involved on the battlefield, just two sides fighting for what they believe in. There is never a right or a wrong side to be on in the face of war. Nothing can justify violence and taking of another life, over something as ridiculous as politics, which is usually the case in these modern days.

The last war had claimed many lives, but it was no normal war by any means. Not to say any war can be classified as 'normal', but it was unique. The Sorceress War, an odd, but somewhat suitable name for the conflict. A supernatural display of unimaginable powers that hadn't been seen in over four thousand years was now a prime weapon of mass destruction. It was thought to be contained and laid dormant over the many centuries, but as time passed, the power grew to a point it could no longer remain suppressed.

It had taken place about eighteen years prior, and was still attempted to be forgotten by those who lived it. There were countless stories and tales circling about everything that actually transpired, but only few knew the truth, and no one would discuss it. Call it ignorance, but it was more of a means to an end, and a way to bury the horrific past. Little did people know, it would soon catch up with them.

The somber, ashen sky produced a light drizzle, which fell softly upon the soiled training ground due north of Balamb Garden. It was hidden in the depths of the Gaulg mountain range, which was free from all outside distractions. The clouds chased each other overhead, whether in battle or in flight was impalpable.

His heavy, black boots made prints in the wet dirt with every new step, as wet clunks of soil came loose under his feet. Damp locks of his almond brown colored hair hung down past his eyes resembled that of a hunting cat's mane. It flowed down toward the soft, white fluffy fur trim around the collar of his black leather jacket. He sported a white muscle shirt that peeked out from underneath, and a silver lion head with a cross at the neck hanging from a silver chain, accentuated by the shallow light.

He wore a loose fitting black leather pants with a trio of belts, one around his waist, the other two lower down, crossing diagonally over his groin. One held several small pouches, for items and equipment. The other seemed to be like a combination of a swordbelt and gunbelt, featuring a hybrid of a holster and a scabbard. Thin, black leather gloves topped off the young mans dark apparel, which seemed perfectly befitting of him.

"_Where the hell is he? Should've figured it was a prank."_ He was well aware of the other cadet's idiosyncrasies, almost too aware.

He gradually began turning, his eyes focused on the grim sky and the dark horizon. The ocean was moderately visible in the distance as black tides crashed into the reef, and the dark gray clouds hung overhead like an angry shroud of doom. It seemed like such a cold, desolate place to be at the time, which is probably why he found an awkward serenity to it. The thunder roared with a godlike blare, almost deafening in its moment. The lightning followed with a tremendous bolt that lit up the early morning sky. The luminescence silhouetted a solitary figure, standing amongst the elemental onslaught in the area known as Pinnacle Rock.

The black clad figure crossed his arms and stared at the other man, waiting for any action. He walked towards him as the lightning struck again, revealing the smug smirk on the man's face. Through the rumbling overcast, he could hear a faint cackle under the grin.

"You kept me waiting. Shame, shame!" the mysterious figure remarked, scratching the tip of his blade which was cloaked under his jacket, on the wet mineral surface. Taller in stature, the mysterious figure stood roughly six foot four, to the stranger's five foot and six inches, with short, slicked-back blonde hair, except for a small lock that hung stylishly down over his face. He possessed a regal bearing, like some ancient knight from ages hence, that belied his eighteen years. He was clad in a long white trenchcoat, immaculate and spotless, emblazoned with blood-red sword-crosses on the sleeves. Underneath his white coat he wore a sleeveless blue vest, also featuring a cross, this one sliver. His black pants matched his boots and gloves, and around his throat hung a silver necklace.

Upon hearing the self-righteous voice, the young man in black halted, staring bitterly at the other man with a heated glare. Agitation and hostility gleamed in his eyes, "Did you call me up here to run your mouth?" the black clad figure spat back with his gloved hands clenched tightly in a fist, which at the moment ached to meet his adversaries jaw. The man stood about five meters across from him, staring back with an obnoxious grin.

"If you're that anxious to learn, I guess I'll just have to teach you." He replied, drawing a similar looking weapon from underneath his gray trench coat, and pointing it towards his opponent, "…Shall we?" he challenged, luring the shorter figure towards him with his fingers .For a brief moment, the young man in black just leered at the figure standing across from him.

And then he drew his peculiar weapon from its holster, and impaled the razor-sharp tip into the hard soil below.

The weapon, the Revolver, medium-length, broad sword with a very distinctive design, as the base was shaped in the form of a revolver, which justified its name; the gunblade. The Revolver, as its name would suggest, had the handle identical to that of six-shot, cross-action magnum, but was a bit longer with finger grasps, and a chain that hung loosely with a silver lion head sculpted at the end. Where the barrel would be on a magnum, however, there was instead a long, broad blade. The blade tapered until the last few inches, where the tip was shaped like the end of a scimitar, the curved edge excellent for slicing, yet straight enough for a powerful thrust.

This inimitable weapon was a mutant crossbreed of a gun and sword. Etched elegantly into the slanted bottom of the blade was a mythical lion, sprawled dragon-like wings gave it a divine presence on the weapon.

"Let's get on with it. I don't have much time." He said calmly as he adjusted his gloves, always making sure the silver ring was around his finger. To him, it gave him a sense of security, something he lacked a lot of in his life. The ring was the last thing he had to hold onto his past, something he could rarely recall.

The blonde warrior smirked and spoke "Don't worry, I'll make it quick!" He arced his head back slightly, his blue eyes regarding his foe with a combination of respect and determination. His deep blue eyes contrasted the steely gray of his foe's. He raised his blade up again, pointing it at his foe and putting his right foot forward, his free left hand held out to the side, a modified fencing pose.

The brown haired figure reached for the handle of his gunblade, which was still embedded into the ground, and charged forward with a dangerously determined glare. The blonde figure began a charge as well, eyes locked onto the other with tenacity. The Revolver swung down with force as the blonde raised the Hyperion, blocking the strike with a smile on his face.

The blonde haired figure pushed off and thrust his blade inward once more, as the other dodged by spinning around, swinging down hard with his gunblade, knocking the black blade downward and holding it down with his own.

As they came face to face, the two made eye contact. Fierce competitiveness and mutual deference hinted in the eyes of both of the combatants. The blonde smirked, staring deep into his opponents' tenacious blue eyes, and winked wryly at him. Swiftly, he used his strength to lift the shorter figures blade off his own, and jumped backwards, quickly recomposing himself.

Swing after swing, thrust after thrust, each parried and countered the others attack with great dexterity and ability, as if they knew the move the other was about to make before they even thought of it. The shorter figure drew his blade back, and charged with more force than before.

Sparks flew as the two blades intersected, the slender, black-bladed Hyperion being turned aside by the parry of the heavier, silver blade of the Revolver. Their wielders backed off slightly, eyeing each other with deadly intensity.

A warm spring breeze, carrying with it the humid dampness of a coming morning storm, weaved its way between them, ruffling one's long hair, and the other's long coat. They stood atop a hill of gray stone, flanked on all sides by blank gray rocks and boulders. In the east, the sun would be rising as it always did in the morning, but dark clouds and high mountains to the east blocked the bringer of day from shedding any more light than that of a bit of silver on the horizon.

Overhead, these dark clouds occasionally boomed with thunder, punctuated by flashes of lightning. Periodic bursts of rain had occurred, although no precipitation had yet fallen during the duel. Down below, all around the site of the battle, thick forests marked with morning mists provided a backdrop for the duel. In the dim morning light, the two men stood alone, undisturbed in their personal conflict.

"Not bad," said Hyperion's wielder with a smirk.

The two opponents stood still for a few seconds, each watching the other, waiting for their foe to make the first move.

They broke as one, both advancing, blades clashing with the solid ring of metal on metal. Hyperion's wielder came across in a slash, to which the Revolver rose to block. Hyperion's wielder smirked once more, and suddenly broke away, his weapon shooting up against the heavier gunblade and smashing against the crafted steel. The weapon was blasted up and out of the hands of its wielder, who was surprised at the power in that stroke. It flew upwards, spinning end over end, and reached the apex of its flight, before descending toward the ground and smashing into the stone point-first. The gunblade stood tall and straight, the chain on the end clinking, and a flash of lightning illuminated the dark morning, followed by a peal of thunder and the gentle whisper of light, falling rain.

The brown-haired man glanced to his enemy, who stood calmly, watching him and waiting for him to recover his lost weapon, smiling all the while.

_Arrogant bastard._

His gloved fingers closed around the gunblade's handle, and the brown-haired warrior tore the unique hybrid weapon from the damp soil. Feeling the solid weight of his hybrid weapon in his hands, he raised the gunblade and turned on his foe. The blonde warrior waited silently, his superior smirk still marking his features, as he waited for his opponent to make the first move.

"Come on, let's get this over with," the blonde warrior said. The brown-haired raised the Revolver and charged. The blonde warrior grinned and his own weapon rose to point at his foe.

The two dueled ferociously, blades clanging and scraping in the spring air. Hyperion and Revolver met repeatedly, sparks rising and falling at each intersection. Hyperion's wielder backed away quickly, and came back in, pulling a dazzlingly fast spin. Hyperion came around fast and hard, aided by the momentum of the spin, but was met by the Revolver. The Revolver came in behind the slash, striking at Hyperion's blonde wielder, but the man spun around and back, away from the slash. Hyperion came out of the spin striking down on the Revolver, knocking it down and away.

The Revolver's wielder came back in, his gunblade slicing down at the blonde man, who stepped forward and unexpectedly ducked under the blow, ending up behind the Revolver's brown-haired wielder. The brown-haired man spun around quickly to face his opponent, who stood calmly. He held Hyperion straight up at shoulder level, smirked again, and then raised his left hand, beckoning with his fingers.

Revolver's wielder accepted the offer to come on. He charged, only to see Hyperion come down from its perch by the blonde man's shoulder and thrust out. The brown-haired warrior ducked aside from the first thrust and sent the Revolver across to prevent a slash down into his skull, then blocked a follow-up thrust, and then a third thrust. The Revolver came overhead in a cleaving stroke, only to be met by Hyperion. The blonde warrior bent his knees slightly at the blow, absorbing the power behind that strike, but didn't fall. He smiled as he pushed up and forward, forcing his brown-haired opponent off.

"Good," the blonde warrior said. "This is fun." The smirk on his face and a dangerous glint in his eyes told the brown-haired warrior that despite the "fun" his foe was having, he did not at all consider it to be a game.

The Revolver's wielder suddenly bolted forward, gritting his teeth as he rushed at his foe. Hyperion remained still until an instant before the Revolver flew across in a heavy, powerful swing. The slender gunblade snapped up, smashing into the heavy blade and stopping it cold. The Revolver's wielder blinked in confusion, as he knew his enemy wasn't strong enough to block his heavy cleave with one arm.

He had no time to ponder the strange circumstances, as his enemy took advantage of that moment of hesitation to spin around on his right leg in a wild, arcing cut. It slammed into the Revolver as the brown-haired warrior brought it up in a deft block, sparks flying through the morning air as the two blades crashed together. Without missing a beat, the heavier gunblade disengaged and chopped across in a countering slash, but the light-footed blonde man spun away once more.

Hyperion came out of the spin in a descending smash that knocked the Revolver out of the way, once more with unexpected power. He smirked as his opponent's eyes widened at the energy in his attack, and disengaged his weapon.

The brown-haired warrior rushed in with another cleave, and his blonde foe ducked under the attack, spinning around behind his opponent and raising his weapon to his shoulder, the tip of Hyperion leveled at the clouds overhead. As the Revolver's wielder spun around, Hyperion's wielder grinned knowingly and gestured with his left hand, beckoning his opponent to resume the duel. His foe obliged, starting forward, only to have to fall back as his opponent's weapon shot ahead in a sudden, swift thrust.

The Revolver snapped across and crashed into the smaller gunblade, knocking it aside, and then had to parry swiftly with the heavy weapon as his enemy launched two more quick thrusts. As he blocked the third stab by Hyperion, the shorter fighter countered, stepping into a brutal overhead cleave that would split his foe from forehead to navel.

Hyperion somehow arced across and over its wielder, the gunblade intercepting the powerful slash with surprising ease. The blonde man smirked, and shoved forward with his weapon, throwing the heavy Revolver off his gunblade.

The blonde warrior chuckled, and the brown-haired man narrowed his eyes as he started to understand what the duplicitous bastard was doing. He snarled quietly, and rushed ahead, undeterred by his opponent's treachery. His gunblade chopped in once more, and once again Hyperion deflected it with practiced, deliberate ease.

The blonde warrior suddenly shot ahead, his gunblade dipping low and rising up in an arcing cut, driving the Revolver back, and the brown-haired warrior continued retreating as his enemy slashed upwards a second time, trying to attack from an odd angle to throw his foe off. As Hyperion cut past, the Revolver countered in another vicious hack, which Hyperion's wielder nearly walked into.

He backed away as the Revolver chopped in a second time, this time ringing against his gunblade.

Even with his strength, the larger man had to set his feet and put his hand against the flat of his weapon to absorb all of his opponent's strike. His enemy launched a furious assault, taking advantage of his momentum, the Revolver crashing against Hyperion in a brutal series of blows. Gritting his teeth, Hyperion's wielder snapped his weapon forward as the Revolver retracted and shot ahead, and the weapons met.

The Revolver was shoved back and down by its foe's superior strength, and the brown-haired man leapt back before his enemy would strike out. However, as he retreated, the blonde man finally decided that he was finished with playing around. He clenched his fist as the Revolver's wielder rushed forward, and raised his left hand.

"Dodge this one!" he snarled, his eyes widening with glee.

The brown-haired man's eyes widened as red and yellow light coalesced into an incandescent ball in the taller man's hand. Hyperion's wielder smiled with vicious superiority, and unleashed the blast of energy he was channeling as his foe raised his gunblade. The blast slammed into the steel blade, which deflected most of the power behind the blow, but the potent burst of energy hurled the smaller man onto his rear, sending him skinned backward across the damp stone and soil.

_Darn_, Revolver's wielder thought. _He had magic! He should have seen that coming _...

Even as that thought sounded, the smaller man's training kicked in, and he began to rise, not wanting to allow his opponent any time to take advantage of his weakness. A shadow fell over the brown-haired man as he started to stand, however, and he looked up, in time to see his enemy step forward, Hyperion arcing up into the air as his foe's eyes widened with manic glee. The smaller man's own eyes widened an instant before the slender gunblade flashed down.

A curse sounded within his mind, and a line of pain flashed over his face. His head jerked back as he felt his own lifeblood burst from the upper right side of his forehead and down over the bridge of his nose. He looked down, and saw crimson staining the gray stone beneath him, and the laughter of his victorious opponent.

His fingers tightened around his gunblade as instinct and fury took hold, and the smaller man rose in a single, sudden motion. The Revolver dragged forward, slicing along the stone and tearing chunks of rock free as adrenaline surged into his body, sending him into a rising strike that shot into his enemy's laughing visage and cut through his nose, stretching up along the left side of his forehead.

Blood flew from the Revolver as his foe stumbled backward, and crimson dripped into the brown-haired man's eyes, blinding him as he rushed forward, raising his weapon to continue their battle. His foe clenched his teeth, ignoring the pain as anger took over, and their weapons collided once more.

His foe's unnatural power, however, was too much, and the smaller warrior felt his weapon begin to be forced back, and then he heard his opponent snarl in anger, right before his left hand balled into a fist and shot across into his jaw. His head was snapped back, and he was thrown off his feet and to the dirt. He heard his gunblade clatter to the stone as darkness swam up to claim his thoughts.


End file.
